


Morbus

by Sunshinegrimes



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dex has issues, Dex's Emotional Baggage, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Monologue, M/M, Major Issues, Mental Instability, One-Sided Relationship, Psychological Trauma, Sort Of, set during 3x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinegrimes/pseuds/Sunshinegrimes
Summary: "They say a leopard can’t change its spots, that no matter how hard you try to deviate, to become a force for change, you can’t escape your own truth.But what if someone were to remove that skin, and stitch a new one in its place? Are you even the same animal anymore? Would anyone even recognise you?"Dex finds Ray at his house in 3x12, and he makes a different call.----*SPOILERS FOR THE END OF DAREDEVIL S3*





	Morbus

They say a leopard can’t change its spots, that no matter how hard you try to deviate, to become a force for change, you can’t escape your own truth.

But what if someone were to remove that skin, and stitch a new one in its place?

Are you even the same animal anymore?

_Would anyone even recognise you?_

Dex knew, and had done for a very long time, that inside every human was an innate nature, an unswerving, unchanging core around which everything else gravitated. Once, Dr. Mercer had tried to explain the concept of self to him, that every person held the capacity for good, evil, and all of the multitudes and fractals in between. Dr Mercer believed in the goodness of people, and she had told Dex many times that it was possible for a person to change, to be better, if only the person tried hard enough.

But humanity was not so easily defined, people rarely tried to be better, and so Dex had spent a lifetime washing his hands of the depravities of man. He was no saint, by now, Dex had accepted his place in the mechanism of this coldblooded society. He had come to accept that was impure, he was dirtied, which is why he would never, _could never_ , approach Julie like he wanted to. His nature was volatile, it would contaminate her. Unwavering, indiscriminate, his diseased core found ways to kill even those he cared the most for.

Therefore, despite the clear warning signs, despite knowing he was making mistake after mistake, Dex found himself ascending the porch to Ray Nadeem’s home. The door was unlocked, and once inside, Dex didn’t linger for very long, passing broken furniture, and walls riddled with bullet holes. Before tonight, he may have spent longer, cast his eyes around the home, absorbing what he could about Ray’s life. He may have run his hand over the high back of a chair, picked up a picture frame, or opened a draw to inspect its contents. Now, as he made his way through the darkened space, he felt reluctant to touch, to pry, to lift his gaze to the photographs, to the eyes he knew were staring back at him, accusing.

Dex knew exactly where Ray would be: under the waning moon, a beer in one hand and his back to Dex’s advancing figure. Ray trusted, _had trusted_ , Dex implicitly, before Fisk had swept his influence over both of their lives. Dex wasn’t blind, he knew that Ray liked him, more than he should, given that he had a wife, and a son. Ray had never admitted it, had never given a name to the amorphous, nebulous thing that had grown between them for almost a decade. The presence of such a thing made Dex scared, as it presented two possibilities, and Dex wasn’t sure which he feared more.

The first possibility was that if Ray ever did confess his feelings, it would run Dex through, would turn him inside out, tear him limb from limb, and would destroy his allegiances to all others. The second possibility was that if Dex gave a name to it, or acknowledged its presence, that his nature would find a way to corrupt that too. He feared, that with very little effort, he would not be able to stop himself from choking the life out of it, and Ray along with it.

The grass under Dex’s feet barely made a sound, and yet, Ray still knew to turn around, to still met his eyes. Dex froze, his gun still pointed at the ground, his shoulders stiff with tension. In any other circumstance, Dex would have shot his target before being spotted, would have brought them in quickly, quietly, without making a scene.

“I'd hoped it would be you.”

The gravitas of that simple statement brought Dex back to the present, and cast the scene before him into sharp technicolour. It was as though up until now, Dex had been viewing the world underwater, had been without taste or smell, or feeling in his limbs. Ray had spoken, and suddenly, this unarmed man, whom he felt he was meeting all over again, had stopped time itself. The universe had been reduced down to this single shared space. As of now, they were the only two people that existed.

“Hi Ray.”

With only a handful of words, Ray had cast aside Dex’s plans, stripped his defences down to the bone, and reduced every inch of his immeasurable fortitude, to the barest of strengths. Dex could force no more than a few words past his own lips. The rush of clarity, and noise that had broken the veil, made him feel clammy and nauseous. He had to look away, if only to regain his composure, to stop his hands from shaking, and to remember why he was there.

_They say a leopard can’t change it’s spots._

“Come on inside. Let’s talk.” Dex tried, unable to meet Ray’s eyes until he was finished speaking. If he looked, if he tried to do both at once, he was afraid that Ray would turn his words to ash on his tongue. Ray seemed to consider his words for a few seconds, a silent idol, before a tentative smile spread over his face.

“Come on, Dex. We both know you’re a better liar than that.” Ray seemed to consider his next words carefully, before he raised his bottle towards his lips. “You want a private place to kill me.”

Ray’s words stung like a slap, and Dex reflexively squeezed his fingers tighter around the grip of his gun. Dex allowed himself to nod, ever so slightly, and lowered his gaze from Ray’s condemnation. It was true, he did want the act to be private. There was a certain degree of intimacy that came with seeing the light in someone’s eyes fade away, to measure their last breaths with your own. Dex wanted to be the one to kill Ray. He would never have forgiven himself, if some nameless, faceless agent had been the one to do it. Dex knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the fact Fisk had sent him to kill Ray was no coincidence. This was a test of his loyalty to his new master, and Fisk had to be sure there would be no one that could take his new pet away.

“You’re in a tough spot Ray, I get that.” It was a terrible thing, for his loyalties to be divided in such a fashion. When he had begun working for Fisk, Dex had welcomed the change of scenery, the opportunity to put away his childish emotions for the man that stood across from him. Fisk was a tower of a man. He was imposing, sure of himself, and what he wanted from Dex. Ray would continue to be a loose end, a _could be_ , a _never was_ that haunted him, taunted him, that no matter how much he tried, he would eventually fall from the tightrope of purity. Dex knew the inevitable, that in trying to be something he was not, he would come to disappoint the one person whom he so desperately wanted to please. “It sounds hard. Really hard.”

The words burned his tongue on the way out, and Dex felt bile in the back of his throat. He felt as though he were being cleaved in two, that if he were to look down at his chest, he would find his body open, spilling his festering insides onto the grass. In the past, Dr Mercer had tried to explain empathy to him. She had said people often experienced physical pain when dealing with loss or stressful circumstances. This feeling, this extreme agony, was unlike anything he was familiar with.

“When he’s done with you, he’ll bury you too. You know that right?” Dex felt as though he were rotting, that part of him was dying, and as Ray continued to stare him down, the gangrenous pain in his chest only grew worse. Suddenly, he could see himself from a third person perspective. He could see how weak he was, how alone and exhausted he looked, from the sweat on the back of his neck, to the minute shaking of his hands.

“I’m doing fine.” It was another lie, one that Dex knew Ray could see right through. Suddenly, dying didn’t seem so bad, if it meant everything would stop even for a minute. When Ray didn’t reply, a small spark of anger suddenly flared in Dex’s chest. He felt frustration at everything Ray had made him do, what he was trying to make him do right now. Ray wanted to be a martyr, he wanted Dex to kill him. Ray wanted to leave. He was painfully reminded of Dr Mercer, who had knowingly allowed Dex to grow attached to her, had made a personal impression, only to leave just when Dex believed it was safe enough to care about her. Foolishly, Dex had let the same thing happen again, and this time, he feared it would break him entirely. “And you would be, too, if you hadn’t opened your mouth.” His words came out low, controlled, but when Ray started to walk towards him, Dex lost what little power he had over his voice once more.

“It’s not too late to turn things around, Dex.” Ray’s voice was cautiously optimistic, imploring Dex to listen to him. Dex had to swallow down the lump in his throat, and his aim faltered, lowering the gun back to the ground once more. He had expected this, had played the thought of Ray trying to convince him over and over in his head. He had pictured Ray fighting back, Ray being angry at him, dismissive, flippant, maybe even begging for his life. This version of Ray, that looked him in the eye confidently, that spoke calmly, with a clarity Dex was intimately familiar with, was something Dex did not want to face. Dex knew that tone. It had broken through his barriers so many times. It had instantly drawn Dex to Ray’s orbit, and had been a source of stability when his job pushed the limits of his body, and mind. “Fisk manipulated you, just like he did me and Tammy and everyone else. I can help you cut a deal with the DA.” Dex desperately wanted Ray to stop talking. Every word that came out of Ray’s mouth felt like glass cutting into his skin. His eyes burned, and he could feel the dampness of tears on his face. His knees were weak, and his sweaty palms were hardly holding onto the gun any more. “We can take him down, you and me. Two federal agents… like we were before.” Ray smiled again as he spoke, and that was the final blow that brought the last of Dex’s resolve crashing down.

Dex’s vision swam as he dropped his gaze to the floor, and Ray was across the yard in an instant, a solid, tangible presence in his line of vision. Dex shuddered, and his fingers uncurled effortlessly from around the gun, as Ray eased them away. He felt as weak as a new born, and the grass beneath his legs was freezing and damp when he slid to his knees. Dimly, he was aware of Ray’s hands, one pressed to the back of his head, and the other curled around his wrist. The fingers of that hand, where they were fisted in the fabric covering Ray’s midsection, felt cold, and numb from shock.

Strong, capable fingers stroked the back of his head. The rest of the world collapsed and folded in on itself around him, in a roar of noise and blood in his ears. Within that amalgamation of sound, Dex was acutely aware of the whining of an animal. It started off faint: a broken, disarticulated sound from somewhere nearby, overlapping the sound of Ray’s voice as he murmured quiet affirmations into the night air. He wanted to talk, to silence the creature’s visceral vocalisations, but it felt as though the weight of the universe rested upon his tongue. Finally, Dex drew in a breath, gasping for air, and choked on a sob that tasted bitter and metallic. He had bitten through his own lip. A hand on his cheek stilled the worst of his dizziness, and as Dex raised his gaze, sweat soaked and trembling, to Ray’s own, he felt as though he were looking into the face of a benevolent god.

“Please.” Was all he managed to say, and it sounded more like a prayer than anything else. He felt painfully, _excruciatingly_ small when he watched Ray smile. Dex felt naked, exposed, and his head was empty and full all at the same time. Ray was no longer speaking, but instead, the hand that had held his own was working its way under his shoulder, easing him up on legs of spun glass.

Dex let himself be guided from the lawn, to one of the arm chairs in Ray’s house, which he collapsed into gratefully. Ray perched on the corner of the arm rest, and maintained his supportive grip around Dex’s shoulders, rubbing slow circles into his upper arm. Dex turned his face in against Ray’s chest, breathing deeply, and trying to stop the shaking in his body. He had been so close, _so close_ , to pulling the trigger. Dex could scarcely believe he ever held the intent to hurt this man, this _god,_ that currently held Dex’s universe at the tips of his fingers. The gun was gone, and Dex’s hands were empty, stinging with a phantasmal brand from the guilt of what he had been prepared to do.

“You’re okay Dex, we’re okay.” Ray’s voice washed over his skin like a balm. Beneath his ear, Dex could hear the rich depth of it resonating in his chest. _“You’re okay.”_ But he wasn’t, he didn’t want to be, not after what he had almost done. Dex wanted to hurt, he wanted Ray to be mad, to abandon him, take his wife, and son, and leave his depraved, corrupted self behind. He didn’t deserve Ray’s forgiveness, or his heart of gold. He didn’t deserve Ray’s comfort, or his hands, or his warmth.

Dex cried, and his tears were hot, and painful, for everything that he had lost, and almost did lose. He cried for Ray, for how he had forced the other man to take part in Fisk’s repulsive plans, how he had dragged Ray through the grime and the detritus that accumulated around his own poor judgement. As he cried, Ray continued to whisper gently to him, promising him that things were going to be just fine, that Ray was going to work things out for them.

For _them_. After all of this, Ray still considered he and Dex to be partners. His words cleared some of the faintness in the forefront of Dex’s mind, helped him to think a little clearer. The gangrenous, rotting feeling from before was gone. With its absence, Dex became acutely aware of his own skin, and the warmth that was pressed around it, where his body touched Ray’s. He had shed the suit Fisk had so crudely stitched him into, and the flesh underneath was new, pink and delicate. Ray’s strength, and compassion, had permeated his entire body, had soaked into his skin, and pulled away the layers of grime and infection that Fisk had spread over him. Ray recognised him. Underneath all of the pollution, this monolith of a man had seen through to Dex’s true nature, and judged his soul to be _good_.

Perhaps he needn’t change his nature. Perhaps his very perception of himself had been wrong from the start. The thought of that scared him, as Dex was sure he knew who he was, or had some understanding of his own humanity. Now thinking clearly, he could see Fisk had strained his mind to its limits, had been pushing his buttons on purpose and manipulating him from the start. Fisk was not a towering figure, he was a parasite. A parasite that had worked his way underneath Dex’s skin, and had been controlling his limbs, his head, his heart. _No more._ Dex thought, reaching up to run a hand down his face. He felt exhausted, but like he was breathing deeply for the first time since he had come into contact with Fisk.

A leopard cannot change its spots, that much was true. Dex was no fool, he knew that part of him would always be drawn to the darker, more dangerous aspects of human nature. But with Ray by his side, as his new North Star, Dex felt safe enough to pick himself up and re-enter the fray. This time, with Ray guiding him in the right direction, Dex vowed that he would fight tooth and claw, to destroy Fisk for good.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! This one was HEAVY! ;_; I hope you liked it!  
> I wrote this because I am still devastated over the ending of 3x12. If you were too, or if you'd like to chat about Dex/Ray, please drop me a comment down below! c:
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> \- Sunshinegrimes


End file.
